


a christmas memory

by cookiethewriter



Series: all we see is light -- rokat [2]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Backstory, E RATING FOR CHAPTER 2!!!, F/M, Family Issues, Smut and Feels, also!!!, broke this puppy in half bc it got away from me, but i try to make it easy to follow, dean and renee are mentioned a couple times, it is suggested you read that first, my Specialty (TM), this is a sequel to 'of tea bags and carnations', this is riddled with original characters, which i thought was Two Words(TM)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21699181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiethewriter/pseuds/cookiethewriter
Summary: an unexpected phone call flips katelina's holidays upside down, and she's faced with some difficult decisions...
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley & Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Renee Young (mentioned), Roman Reigns/Original Female Character(s)
Series: all we see is light -- rokat [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1492442
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> happy holidays, everybody! and, more specific to this particular fic - happy chrismuts!! i have had Quite The Time with this one, and it stems mostly from trying to stay true to my own au. ain't that dumb? not to mention, a lot of mental back and forth, stress from both the holidays and other... but, here we are! my post date is 07 december, so that's when the smut will go up. for now, have some lead-up!

Katelina was never one to pass on work she could do herself onto other people. Her work ethic was her calling card, a part of her reputation that often preceded her whenever she got called away to help some other medical facility when they were short-staffed. It was why she was never seen huffing and puffing in an office somewhere, instead meeting patients in the lobby of her clinic and dipping into exam rooms even for something as simple as a common cold. 

Most of her patients referred to her by her first name, either a formal Katelina or informal Kat. Children called her ‘Miss’ and older patients called her ‘Dear’, and everyone in-between simply called her Doc. 

Being as nose-deep in her work as she is, she hadn’t had a lot of time to make nice with people outside of it. Her head surgeon, Gavin, was a good friend of a friend who she trusted with everything … when it came to the realm of medicine. If she ever had to run an errand, she made sure it was Gavin who was keeping an eye on things, though her head nurse was no slouch and took her job very seriously. 

Kat was a fair boss, she thought. No one ended up working some impossible amount of hours, and if they did, she made sure to pick up any slack while they went to nap or made a coffee run. If she could help it, she tried to keep everyone fresh and sane, but all that went out the window when the first snowfall came around. 

Winter was an absolute fucking nightmare.

Not only because it was like every patient suddenly contracted every major illness, but because her body couldn’t _handle_ it. It was like her body grew weaker the colder it got, and she wore layers upon layers of clothing when it hit 40 degrees Fahrenheit or below. She made sure the inside of the clinic was warm and the Keurig kept in the corner was stocked with different coffees and hot chocolates. Her clinic was used as a warm shelter for anyone who needed it, and she always offered them with a free check-up if they wanted one. 

That’s why she’d become so well-known. So _successful_. But her version of fame and success was different from other members of her family, and thus, she sought not to have much contact with them. Barring, of course, her half-brother Kristian. 

It was a pretty normal winter morning when she’d gotten the phone call. It wasn’t terribly busy yet, and she was making sure all exam cots had fresh paper stretched over them when she heard the shrill cry from the front-end telephone. Usually, that was for patients or business, so she made sure to quickly head toward the front telephone where she saw Diana, her Head Nurse, had just got in and was reaching for it. Her soft voice was comforting in the stillness of the winter morning. 

“Good morning, Doctor Sarcelle’s office.” 

Kat doesn’t stray too far, in case it’s an emergency, and she watches for Diana’s signal, whether it was a patient or other business-related, one finger or two. Diana was fluent in American Sign Language, Kat knowing the alphabet at least, so when she starts spelling something out, Kat pays close attention to the letters. 

K-R-I-S-T-I-A-N.

_What could he want?_

“Yes, Mr. O’Brien, the doctor is in. Let me put you on hold for just a moment and she’ll be right with you.” She presses a button, hangs up the phone, and turns to Kat with a look. “Line 2. He says he won’t keep you long.” 

“He better not,” Kat says haughtily. “He knows better than to call me here if it’s a social call.” 

Shrug, then Diana continues setting up her station, stashing her bag under the desk and slipping her jacket off to hang across the back of her chair. With a scoff not aimed at Diana, she floats down the hallway and into her office, and closes the door. The button under Line 2 was lit up and she sighs as she tries to cycle through the usual circumstances why her brother would be calling her at work. “This is Doctor Sarcelle. You better have a good reason for calling on my business line.” 

“ _What, I can’t give a call to my older sister?_ ” 

“You have two. Call Grace.”

“ _Surely you aren’t so rude to your other family._ ” 

Kat pinches the bridge of her nose, trying not get hot over the phone, knowing that she was capable of getting loud when she was angry. Loud and … callous. “Okay. Okay. What is it, is everything okay? You or Asher need medical, what?” 

A laugh on the other side, soft but somehow full. Her brother certainly didn’t have the stuffy, short puffs of laughter that his father had. Still, his laughter only heightens her anxiety. “ _No, everyone’s awright, nothing’s wrong. I’m sure you’d’ve preferred somethin’ was, though._ ”

Kristian had a thick Scottish accent, which made him a little difficult to understand sometimes, but he talks slowly and doesn’t mind repeating if he needs to, all kind and patient. It’s a startling trait; he wasn’t anything like his parents, all snooty businesspeople with a couple of matching superiority complexes. He wasn’t unlike them, because genetics, but he certainly didn’t share most of their negative traits.

“So,” Kat says after a beat. “If you didn’t call to tell me someone’s injured or sick or dead, what _did_ you call my work for?” 

“ _Because I knew you wouldn’t yell at your clinic._ ” 

Anger starts bubbling in the pit of her stomach, acid flying up her throat. “You have ten seconds to start talking.”

* * *

Kristian hangs up the phone, a sneaky grin on his face, and looks over at a pair of invitations sitting on his grandmother’s coffee table. Getting up and walking over, he sits on the plush sofa and picks them up, one in his left and one in his right, and lets his eyes rove over the neat handwriting of his grandfather: _Katelina Sarcelle_ and _Grace Sarcelle_. 

“This will teach you not to acknowledge their existence, woman.” 

* * *

Against her instincts, Kat hangs the phone up gently, trying not to bring negative attention to herself as she attempts to process the information Kristian had given to her; her beloved brother was a lot of things, some good and some less than, but she knew he would never do anything to intentionally hurt her or Grace. Of everyone on _that side_ of the family, he was probably the only one who didn’t look at her like she started the Plague. But he often did things without thinking of the consequences, took risks that he maybe shouldn’t because of his reputation, but it usually ended up going in his favor. He was lucky, in more ways than one, and this would certainly be one of those times. 

Kristian was aware what kind of privilege he had, was born with, and was one of the good ones despite it, but it didn’t change anything. He was the apple of his father’s eye, his mother’s prodigy, and his grandparents loved him unconditionally. But it was no secret that, when it came to that side of the family, even _Kristian_ could reach a point of no return, and the whole situation threatened that very thing; he had invited them, Katelina and Grace, to the O’Brien family holiday gathering, and...

And he wanted she and Grace to be there when he proposed to his long-time boyfriend, Asher. 

There were a lot of different things she could say to that, and he’d have understood. There was no way he could have gone into this expecting to be victorious, and even if he had, he didn’t pull his usual businessman-Kris sneakiness, no. He simply asked. No guilt-trips, no begging. He sweetened the deal by saying she didn’t have to stay the whole time, just the supper part, but the catering would be from a top notch Italian restaurant … not to mention, the open bar. Not that it would make much of a difference, but Grace fits in more with the formal party scene than she does, so she could help her traverse the social scene, etiquette and other bullshit. Keep her away from the booze and avoid a _nother_ altercation with her grandmother.

Can’t have another fight break out between her and that _damned_ Nan O’Brien.

She leaves her office acting strangely quiet, and she’s not surprised to see a couple of patients waiting already. Breathing a sigh, she walks up to them and greets them each with a smile that feels fake to the muscles on her face. Maybe if she pretends like all is normal, her brain will believe it, because it wasn’t a request that was altogether unreasonable or improbable. Perhaps if she got into the motions of her everyday life and carried on as if nothing was making her brain turn to deafening static, she could at least make it through the shift. 

* * *

Turns out, it affected her more than she thought it might, and she ends up in so much of a haze that she _needs_ to leave. Gavin and Diana promise to lock everything up and make sure everyone gets seen that needs to be seen, and she immediately heads home, sending a text out to Renee immediately to try and make plans. 

Turns out, she and Ambrose were on a date night. That left one other person she could text who didn’t know much about her other family. 

[text -> Roman] _I’m ordering some pizza._

[text -> Roman] _Want some?_

* * *

Roman gets there a bit before food was set to arrive, greeting her with a rosy smile and a large cup of coffee from the little cafe down the street. “Black, like a madwoman,” he announces, handing it to her like he was paying the toll to get inside; like her, Roman wasn’t made for the cold, if the layers of clothing, scarf and thick working gloves were anything to go by. Snorting, she takes the cup and moves to let him in, closing the door behind him and dusting some snowflakes off of his shoulder and onto the carpeted floor below.

“I’ve been told I can be as bitter,” Kat gripes, turning on the porch light so the driver knew where to stop. 

“Who would say that?” Roman looks at her, curious and maybe a little amused.

How _easily_ she could make him feel bad for asking. Could spew her life story like she was some brave heroine, how her grandmother all but disowned her because her mother ‘seduced’ her precious son; how Kris and his father and everyone else in that family were ‘pedigree’ and she was a _fucking_ mutt trying to pass as the family pet, and… there was a lot that damned Nan didn’t like about their mother (and her, specifically, for not letting the old bitch get away with it) and so Kat had been _insistent_ to never see, talk to, anyone on that side if she had the choice. Kris was the exception - he was her little brother after all. 

But instead, she simply sighs heavily, pointedly, and tilts her head. “Trust me. People do.” 

Roman’s confusion is like a third person in the room, but she doesn’t get a chance to say anything additionally because there’s a knock at the door. She points at it, “Pizza’s here,” and she moves to walk around him before he puts his arm out to stop her. 

“I got it. _Then_ you’re explaining what that means.” 

Kat huffs, standing still for a minute, before she considers. Being a girl with two halves, no matter how much she loves her mother, had sat heavy in her mind and in her gut for so long that it had become something like chains. And Roman thought that, what, he could shoulder that burden too? Could help her carry it, or some other flowery crap? The sentiment is there, she can admit that much, but pushing her problems, her _self_ , onto others like that just isn’t the way she moves through life. 

She can hear Roman speaking nearby, thanking the pizza delivery person for driving out in this weather and wishing them safe travels and happy holidays, before he closes the door and walks the two over to the coffee table in the living room. “ _Bon Appetit._ Now, as you were saying. Who thinks you’re bitter?” 

Eyeing the box she knew was hers - extra cheese - she brings it closer to where she’d be sitting and turns away to fetch some plates. “Hold that thought.” 

If she picked her words carefully, she might just be able to avoid spilling every single detail. That’s something she’d never had trouble with, being careful, not letting people see what’s really under her tough exterior. But that was just it - she and Roman were different, he wasn’t just ‘people’. If he were a one and done blind date, like he should have been, then she wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells to make sure she didn’t expose herself too much, but since he hadn’t been _just_ a blind date, she really didn’t have much of a choice. 

Her footsteps are careful as she walks back in, slow, like she was getting ready to place the plates down and get the hell outta there. She sits on the couch, not too close to where Roman’s gotten comfortable. 

As she opens the box and takes out a slice of pizza. “Before I start, you’re not to say a _word_. Not to Ambrose, not to Renee. Got it?” 

Roman nods, taking out a slice from his own box - meat-lovers with light sauce - and putting it on his plate. “I won’t.”

“Okay.” That was to him. The second one, a repeated “Okay,” that’s much softer and more reassuring, is for herself. “Have you ever heard of the O’Brien family? Big, rich family in the UK, powerful over there, just started dipping their toes in construction projects out east?” 

“Uh, yeah, I think so. The matriarch of the family or something runs the whole operation, right?” 

“That’s the one. The matriarch’s name is Nan O’Brien, and she has a son named Bruce. He has children, but only his son lives in that world with him. He bought out most of the businesses throughout the UK, but Bruce stays at the headquarters in Scotland to sort of oversee everything.” 

Roman nods, doesn’t say anything, because Kat isn’t done. 

“In the realm of, I guess, the rich and powerful, there’s a bit of a scandal around the O’Briens. Bruce was slated to marry the daughter of someone in his conglomerate of squeaky-clean, stuffy rich people to finalize some sort of merger between their families, but had secretly been stealing away at night to rendezvous with someone who complemented his straight-and-narrow with her wild-and-carefree. But, the ‘scandal’ part wasn’t that she wasn’t rich, or even that he was _technically_ betrothed to someone else. Nan O’Brien found out that his dirty little secret was pregnant, though hadn’t told anyone yet. She was going to tell Bruce, but Nan found her first. Threatened her. Threatened Bruce _to_ her. 

“Of course, the woman feared for his safety above her own, and chose to leave. But even though she was eventually willing to forgive Bruce for besmirching their reputation, she couldn’t erase the scandal completely, because after nine months, she gave birth to twin girls.” 

It takes him a minute, immersed in the story and trying to guess how they came to factor in her allegations, before it dawns on him that this wasn’t a ‘story’. She wasn’t making this up. He points at her, his eyes widen, and he covers his mouth. “So … what you’re telling me is-” 

“Yeah. Gracie and I- we’re the scandal that hangs over the O’Briens’ heads. And Nan has never let me fucking forget it. She calls me bitter and a fraud and undeserving, but sings my brother’s praises until her lungs run out. I’ve made amends with my brother, Kristian, and he’s filled me in on a lot of things I’ve missed, since I don’t make it a habit of upsetting an entire room of power-hungry business moguls in my spare time. Plus, I’ve made it just fine by myself, without them, Gracie and I both have. I don’t need anything from them, much less recognition.” 

“Wow.” Roman breathes. “I was _not_ expecting that.”

Kat nods her head, drags a hand over her face to try and wipe the exhaustion away. Just thinking about that damned old bitch made her skin crawl and her blood boil. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to get a phone call asking me to attend the family Christmas party either, but here we are.” 

“Oh? Judging by what you told me, I can guess your grandmother wasn’t the one who called.” 

This time, her face softens. “No. Kris did. He wants both Grace and I to come, and says we can bring someone each. As long as we’re there.” 

Roman is about to fill his entire mouth with pizza - a look that makes Kat have to hide a smile behind taking a bite of her own pizza - when he seems to perk up slightly. “When are you going?” 

Covers her mouth, as she’s chewing, to answer, “If we go, probably at the beginning of the week of Christmas.” As she continues chewing, Roman takes a large bite of his pizza, just in time for her to swallow her mouthful. “If I’m remembering what Kris told me correctly, it’s kind of like half-family reunion and half-dinner party with a dress code. I plan on going, saying hi to my brother and his partner, and then staying near the open bar so as not to attract … _unwanted_ attention.

“If that’s your plan, you probably are going to need a designated driver.” 

Kat eyes him, careful not to let it show what the carefully-crafted offer does to that beating organ in her chest. “And let me guess. You want to volunteer?”

Roman has this annoying way of seeing through people, and she’s seen the way Dean gets equally-annoyed every time he does it toward him, but she now understands where that reaction comes from as he simply quirks up an eyebrow at her, expectant, and she swears she sees his stupid mouth tilt up in one of his half-smiles. Damn him. 

“Isn’t that what you were leading to? No offense, but you’re not the only person in my circle who skips around asking things like that. I happen to know the King of Deflection, Dean Ambrose.” 

Narrowing her eyes, Kat tries to seem threatening, but only manages to make Roman snort at her. Like a fucking horse, smug as hell. 

“Okay, _fine._ I was going to invite you because Grace is already going and will most likely ditch me, and I didn’t want to bother Renee because she and Dean will already be gone.”

“Oh, I see. So, I’m a last resort.” 

“The truth hurts, but luckily I’m a doctor.” 

Roman sticks out his tongue, a testament to how much time he’s spent with the aforementioned Dean Ambrose, and they both erupt in little giggles. 

“Where’s this party happening?” 

“It usually happens at my grandparents’ winter estate, but I’ve never been. Kristian will send me the e-invite sometime in the next couple days so I can figure out how to get there and all that.” 

There’s this shakiness to her voice the longer she speaks, and Roman reaches out to grasp her shoulder, making her jump a little under his hand. He feels steady against her, and she doesn’t realize the shakiness was due to her _actually_ starting to tremble, but his touch is grounding. “I’ll let you know when I get it.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

They eat in relative quiet after that, the wind tossing snowflakes around out the window behind them. Eventually the quiet becomes just as stifling as the residual feelings the earlier phone call had been, and Kat turns on the TV to put on some sports channel so Roman can catch the scores from whatever games he watches that he misses. 

She, meanwhile, simply watches him.

* * *

_File received: Gala E-vite_

* * *

Kat stares at the e-mail, and asks herself: _Why would I agree to this?_

If the roles were reversed, she knew Kristian would absolutely be there. Even if he were the spurned child, he was still much kinder than she was, having that in common with Grace, and would never be considering turning down the invitation. But even if he were kinder, she was endlessly loyal to the people who deserved her loyalty, and he fits that bill quite well. 

She sends Kris a text. 

[text -> Kristian] _I’m in._

[text -> Kristian] _Just tell me what you want me to bring._

* * *

They end up taking Roman’s SUV, since it had the most room. Grace brought the most of the three, considering she was _also_ bringing some decoration supplies for the floral arrangements, by suggestion of Kristian. Kat was bringing her doctor’s bag, stocked with whatever she deemed she might need, making sure she had all of her official credentials just in case she needed access to a hospital. She packed the lightest of the three, just a backpack and her doctor’s bag. 

Grace told her that she had ordered a dress and had it sent to Kristian’s house, and when Kat told her what she had brought - white turtleneck sweater, dark-green scarf, dark-wash jeans - she very nearly made Roman drive off the road while they were carpooling with a shriek of horror. 

“ _Absolutely not, no! You and I are going dress shopping as soon as we get in!_ ” 

The drive wasn’t as painstaking as it seemed, even for it being hours stuck in a space with other people. She was in good company, at least, and the quiet was comfortable and the conversation was light. However, the residual dissatisfaction of knowing Grace was taking her shopping, of _all_ things, as soon as they got settled into … wherever, and the growing anxiety about finding someplace to stay for the next couple days is the majority of what takes up her headspace until she can hear the quiet purr of Grace snoring in the back seat. 

It was just her and Roman awake now. 

“You’re welcome to doze, too, if you want. The GPS knows where we’re going.” 

She shakes her head and leans her elbow on the door, staring out the window while her fingers scratch idly at her scalp in thought. “No, I don’t sleep in cars.” 

“Ah, let me guess. For the same reason actual cats don’t show just _anybody_ their bellies, right?” 

Slowly, she looks over at Roman and raises an eyebrow. “Not you too, with the cat jokes? I’m not anything like a cat.” 

“You don’t think so?” 

“If I’m a cat, you’re some sort of … _weird_ , dog-hybrid.” 

“ _Weird?_ ”

Kat lazily turns her head around to regard him with a teasing gesture of sticking her tongue out, but his mouth is quirked up in that lopsided, lazy smirk that’s become as much a trademark of him as exhaustion has become one for herself. Her eyes try to stay trained on his, to try to come up with something snarky, but they keep flicking back down to that stupid smirk and she blows out a breath of frustration, stubbornly ignoring whatever his face was doing after that. 

It’s quiet for a spell, long enough for the venue to come into view and the sky to darken _just_ a little bit above them. Then…

“Well, they do call me ‘big dog’.” 

“They do?” 

Kat jumps in her seat, whirling around to look at Grace and thanking whatever omnipotent power was smiling down at her tonight that there was enough of a shadow that, _hopefully_ , her quite-warm face was shielded from the ire of her twin. Grace blinks owlishly, clearly just waking up, and catches Roman’s eyes in the rearview mirror. As she turns back around, she spies Roman partway through a soft laugh and she bats at his arm as she gets situated again. His dramatic “Ouch!” is vehemently ignored in favor of looking back out the window. 

“Why do they call you--”

“Hey, Grace, do you know our sleeping arrangements?” 

Pouting at Kat, she answers tightly, “Kristian said to meet him at the address. Oh, you’ll love him, Roman, he’s not like Grumpy Kat--”

“Still not a cat!”

“--over there.” 

Roman says something under his breath that Kat doesn’t hear, but it’s probably just as well. He probably doesn’t want to be smacked again anyway. 

Just like Grace said, Kristian is waiting for them, cleaned-up in a crisp button-down shirt but without his tie, sleek dress pants and in the process of unbuttoning his sleeves to let his wrists breathe. He waves at them after a while, a big dopey grin on his face, and he fixes his glasses over his nose before he runs his hands through his neat hair to loosen it from its place. 

Grace jumps out of the SUV before it’s even come to a full stop, running straight for Kris and enveloping him in a tight hug. Kat hums, thoughtful, as she watches the scene before her. Like lifelong friends meeting again after a long time, despite Kris not living that far away from them both. Roman puts the SUV in park, but Kat barely notices, just … watches. 

“Aren’t you going to get out?” Roman questions, slowly. Carefully. 

Turning around and regarding him with a sigh, she looks back out. “I’ve always had a rocky relationship with this side of the family. Once I step out…”

“Once you step out, you’re gonna be fine, because you’ve got three people who’ve got your back.” 

She looks down at her lap, picking at the skin under her fingernails, before she feels Roman’s hand heavily grasping both of hers, and she ogles it for a minute. Something catches in her throat that stops her from asking, _probing_ , for clarification and for a second, she wonders if she should. Opening her mouth and closing it again is something she does often, because words don’t come out as easily as they do when she’s got her lab coat on, and she purses her lips before she feels her door open, and there was Grace. 

“Come on, silly!” 

Kat looked up, surprised, but Grace already has her wrist in one hand and is unbuckling her with her other one. Before she knows it, she’s out of the SUV and being _thrown_ into Kris’ waiting arms. Their hug isn’t as tight, not as long, but there’s no shortage of love and care in it either. When they release each other, he holds her shoulders and gives her a look of warmth, and gives her a cheeky grin. “Hey, stranger.” 

“Kristian.” She whispers his name, puts her hands in the crook of his elbows, and she feels a smile spread onto her face. “Long time no see.” 

“I hope the ride wasn't too stressful for you,” he talks slowly, knowing his accent can confuse people, but Kat dealt with so many people on the regular that it barely fazed her now. However, bootsteps come up behind her and Kris gives her a funny look. “Who’s this?”

Kat opens her mouth to answer, but Grace jumps in. “He’s Kat’s date!” 

If she had a drink in her mouth, she’d have spit it out. If she was holding onto something like a cup or plate, she’d have dropped it. The record player in her head scratches and stops quiet, and she levels a glare over at Grace, who’s none the wiser. 

“ _Grace_ , why don’t you go get your suitcase or something.” 

All cheeky, Grace sashays off, and Kris clears his throat at her. 

“Your … date.” 

“ _No_. No. Kris, this is my friend Roman. Roman, this is my brother, Kristian O’Brien.” 

Roman steps forward as Kris releases Kat’s shoulders and he holds his hand out in greeting. “Hey, how’s it going?” 

“Roman. It’s a pleasure.” He was _really_ trying to talk slowly now, and Kat snorts. She can’t wait for Roman to hear him when he gets wound up with energy and he starts talking a mile a minute. That was truly a sight to behold, because no one would ever believe Kris was capable of it. “I know my accent’s a bit strong. Let me know if I should repeat myself, aye?”

“Yeah, will do.” 

“Okay! So, you two can go do your tour-thing,” Grace returns, quiet as a mouse, and it makes Kat jump a bit. It was too late - her sister already had wound herself around Kat’s arm and was pulling her away from the guys, and she suddenly wishes she hadn’t told Grace what she’d brought. “ _I_ have to dress her up like a Barbie doll!” 

“Please no.” Kat groans. 

“Kat in pink? ...I _need_ a picture of that.” Roman teases. Kat feels tears well up in her eyes, slightly embarrassed but absolutely overwhelmed already at the idea. 

Grace doesn’t say anything, but then, she doesn’t have to. Kat knows she has every intention of sharing their escapades with Roman and Asher - the latter because he would be helping Kat with her make-up, making her look all festive and shit. 

“I hate you.” 

“Love you!” 

* * *

The inside of the O’Brien winter estate was only half-decorated that Roman could tell, people hastily putting up ribbons and colored balloons and beautiful music playing over wall speakers that reminded him of an opera; he hadn’t been to many formal parties like this, though had been to enough informal ones to know that this was above and beyond anything he’d ever experienced. Everything felt expensive, and while he was by no means more one side of the wealth spectrum than the other, he certainly could understand why this world would make Kat uncomfortable. 

That, and giving what she’d told him before. 

He hopes, sickly, that he doesn’t get the chance to talk with Nan O’Brien, because he honestly doesn’t think he could have anything kind to say to her. He’ll be polite - he _is_ a guest - but knowing what he knows about Kat and how she feels about Nan, well. It was safe to say his protective instincts might take precedence after a certain point. 

* * *

_“What do you think of this one?”_

_“I’m not wearing white.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“I’ll spill something? I’m not getting married?”_

_“Fair. Okay, next batch!”_

* * *

Down the road from the estate was a fancy hotel, so Kristian led him to where he and the girls would be staying; the girls would get their own room, which, fair enough, and he would have a room that joined with theirs by a pair of doors on either side of a tiny storage closet between the two rooms. He didn’t mind sleeping by himself, and minded less that he was so close to K--the girls! So close to the girls. He definitely isn’t singling out either one of them for any reason. 

Except, he can’t say with finality that he isn’t glad to be around one of them, especially during such a magical time like Christmastime. 

He’d known Kat for a few months now, and since that summer when they walked through the farmer’s market together - and the _carnation_ \- he had begun to feel something he hadn’t felt in a _long_ time -- his heart would beat hard like a bass drum, there would be sparks in his fingertips whenever he got the opportunity to touch her shoulder, pat her hair, brush a stray hair behind her ear -- and he had lost interest in pretending it wasn’t there after thinking he might never _feel_ that again. 

He’d loved once. But being in love and then losing that love had made him realize that he rather liked being with people, liked to keep company around him as much as possible. He’d known Ambrose since he was in college, Renee a little after that, and now Kat. He knew more people, worked with people he considered friends, but those three were the main gang and… well, he considered them family. 

It was different with Kat, though. That was the scary part, the _dangerous_ part. He _had_ loved once, felt the way his body grew warm and still in the presence of another person, and here he was, experiencing it again, with someone who was so different than the types of people he tended to attract: painted lips, tight clothing, beautiful in their own right but also endlessly more attracted to him than he was to them. Kat was … classic. Classically beautiful, skin slightly tanned and usually only wearing mascara and tinted chapstick. She didn’t like tight clothing, despite obviously having the body shape for it, but looked just as good in a pair of jeans and a leather jacket. Her hair was wild and copper-red, waves that never seemed to stay in its bun or ponytail, and her eyes were a mix of gray and blue and _sharp_ and _wicked_ and she was _so_ smart, and…

...and okay, yes, he had feelings for her already. The carnation had been just the beginning -- he hoped he’d get a chance to tell her, tonight, already in the throes of a romantic atmosphere. Romantic, of course, in the case of her brother and his boyfriend. He hoped he’d get to meet him, the boyfriend, before the festivities commence. 

For now, he’ll go into his hotel room and take out his nice clothes and try to get some rest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and luckily, she doesn't have to be alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. who's ready for the reason you all clicked on this fic! ENJOY.

“It’s…”

Kat stares at Grace, at the way her jaw seemed to hang off its hinges, and she feels warmth on her face. It’s not something she’d normally wear, it hugs parts of her she didn’t like to just …  _ flash around _ , bits of skin she doesn’t need to be exposed, but as she runs her fingers - trembling, anticipating,  _ hoping _ \- over the soft line of the flowing skirt, she feels a twitch in her lips, glances at herself in the mirror. “I… yeah.” 

“Kat… you look  _ just _ like Mum.” 

“You think?”

“It’s  _ perfect _ . Wait until Roman sees you.”

At mention of Roman, she levels icy eyes at her sister, needles bouncing off the reflection in the mirror directly into Grace’s expression. “What is it with you? Continuously bringing that up, calling him my… my, um…”

“Your date.” 

“Yes. That.” Kat clears her throat, pulling her eyes away from the mirror to look down at the dress again, at her fingers, cracked skin of her knuckles and the dry lines on the back of her hand. “For your information, he invited  _ himself _ .” 

“That’s not how _he_ tells it.” Grace has a teasing edge to her voice, and that makes her heart flutter. So, they were conspiring, huh? Cool, great,  _ awesome _ . “Why does it bother you so much? You know I’m joking.” 

_ That isn’t the point _ . 

Kat doesn’t answer for a little while, pulling her hand up and flexing her fingers, curling them into a fist and straightening them out again. Curling them again, she turns around. “Can I tell you something, Gracie?” 

“Anything.” 

“The jokes … ‘teasing’ … they’re, uh. Not that far off…”

* * *

The family estate was dressed to the nines on the inside, and if Kat said so herself, the floral arrangements that were placed so meticulously and beautifully around the large foyer they were standing in looked absolutely stunning. Grace was an expert in the craft of flowers, so it wasn’t at all surprising; anything to do with flowers, she was especially brilliant at, from seed to bloom. 

Kat, comparably, could barely sustain succulents. Her thumbs weren’t as green as Gracie’s. 

There was garland hanging above two large windows, a wreath between them, and simple red curtains pushed neatly away from three surrounding tall archways that led to, from where Kat could see: a large chef’s kitchen, a formal dining room, and a plush sitting area. It was clear, no snow falling, by the time Roman, Grace and Kat all got there, but it was supposed to snow heavily halfway through the party. 

She wasn’t dressed in her dress yet; there had to be some adjustments, the skirt widened a little at the hip, the neck widened a little more to give her space to breathe, and they had to order one in the color she wanted. She packed muscle on easily, was constantly picking up and putting away supplies or shifting furniture around when she got sick of the same-old, so the sleeves that originally came with the dress had to be taken off. All in all, the picture the designer made her in-store was absolutely gorgeous, and luckily she had one in stock she could work with. Because it was specially-made for her last minute, Kris had gone to pick it up and delivered it safely to her …  _ just _ as they got to the estate. 

She would have to change into it here and stash her clothes in Roman’s SUV, which they came here in, naturally.

Grace, however, was thrilled to be in her dress. It was light pink, patterned, the middle pulled in with a beautiful pink clip and the skirt reaching above her ankles. She was wearing heels, making her closer to Kat’s height, and her hair which was usually tight, round curls, was wrapped into some sort of fancy braid-bun-thing, held together by a rose-gold hair clip. Grace was always the one who was willing to dress to the nines herself, decked up in make-up with short gloves that were a shade somewhere between pink and white, pearl-like. 

Kat had her dress in a bag over her arm, her hair was wet and down, running over her back and shoulders, rivers of liquid copper. Asher was gonna help paint her face up; she’d never quite figured out how to wear make-up, not more than mascara and lipstick or chapstick. Grace was naturally beautiful, didn’t need much make-up except for mascara to darken, rather than thicken, her eyelashes, eyebrow pencil or some sort of lip gloss. Roman had on a crisp dress shirt, white, with a dark green tie. His suit jacket is folded over his arm, toting Grace along through the crook of his arm. A few people had already managed to make it, some aunts and uncles dressed in fancy dresses or suits in deep shades of red or white or black. Some had golden accents, golden hairpieces, and Kat makes a face. 

As the party gets more and more congested with ritzy outfits and the strong waft of hair mousse, Kat finds herself sticking close to the buffet table, running her fingers over various placements and picking up a piece of deviled egg as someone brings them out of the kitchen. Crowds had never been her thing, but crowds filled with people who didn’t like her were  _ less _ her thing. 

A hand on her arm makes her jump, but she turns around to see Asher - a half-Samoan, half-Korean man - looking at her, a little smile on his face, and she pulls him into a brief hug almost immediately. “Thank  _ God _ you’re here.” 

“I could say the same about you. Glad you came.” 

Kat smiles at that.

“I grabbed everything that would go with the picture Grace told me, so we’re good to go whenever you are.”

She nods her head and starts walking toward where Grace and Roman are standing and places her hand between Roman’s shoulder blades, tapping gently. He turns around and warmly smiles at her, before looking at Asher and nodding at him as well. “Roman, this is Asher. Asher, this is my friend Roman. Roman, Ash and I are gonna be right back. You’ll be okay for a few minutes?” 

Grace flails her hand at her instead of giving him a chance to answer. “Go! I’ll keep him company until you return!” 

With that, Asher calmly walks her out of the large hall and to the staircase in the front lobby to head up to her room. 

* * *

There’s a band playing jazz covers of Christmas songs when the party gets underway around 9pm. The lights are bright and bounce off the shiny wood floor onto the holiday-colored people, reds and whites and golds scattered around as they mingled with each other. Conversation was a hushed buzz underneath the tones of this new rendition of  _ Jingle Bell Rock _ , and Roman honest to  _ God _ was getting a little impatient. 

It had been almost an hour since Kat had disappeared with Asher, and Grace had ditched him to socialize with people he presumed were family about a half-hour ago. Kristian had swooped in now and again to ask how he was, talked with him for a while, before promising to return to his side after his next round of walking around and socializing, and that had been a while ago, too. 

But he promised he’d wait for her here, and he intended to keep it … of course, until he heard raised voices coming by the extravagant foyer.

The voices are very distinct, one unfamiliar and angry with some sort of strong European accent he can’t place and the other a step higher, English, familiar but sharper than he knows it to be. Once he breaches the room, the voices get clearer, words biting and venomous in a space with acoustics that could make even a tone-deaf guy like him sound good. 

“...invited you anyway, knowing what you’ve done to my family.” 

“What  _ I’ve _ done? If your head wasn’t so far up your  _ own _ ass-!”

“Not to mention, what your  _ harlot _ mother has done to my son, even after all this time.”

“You keep my mother out of your mouth, you old  _ bitch _ .” 

He’s never heard Kat sound so angry, and his feet move him until he ends up right beside her, and he swears she must feel him standing with her without him saying so, because her stance immediately slackens and she looks less likely to swing at the older woman in front of her. For good measure, he puts his hand on the small of her back, feels the soft velvet of the top of her dress under his palm, and applies enough pressure that she sinks into the touch. 

Good. At least she’s humoring him. 

“I don’t know why you’re here, but you’re ordered to leave. Take whoever came with you back where you came from.” 

The words were so cold, ice, making whatever was going on outside look like a summer paradise. His hackles rise, but Kat holds her arm out to stop him from making any sort of move. Nan moves around Kat then, an entourage of people behind her that could have been security (for all she knew) following in her wake, and only after she disappears with a dramatic flourish of the red curtain does he feel the tension in Kat’s body uncoil a little bit more. 

“I love my brother more than I hate her. I love my brother more than I hate this family. I love--” 

Roman’s hand moves from her lower back to her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Why don’t we go see what he’s up to, huh, baby girl?”

That seems to snap her out of her haze, and she looks back to regard him with a look of confused interest, before she lets him pull her back in the direction where Nan had just disappeared.

* * *

“...I also want to thank Asher, who without him I wouldn’t have been able to organize this entire thing. His eye for beauty and perfection helped decorate this place, and he made a great team with my sister Grace, who put together the various flower arrangements and centerpieces around the room and on the tables. I couldn’t have done this without the support of my family.” 

Kristian looks over at Kat, eyes probing, asking her a question without actually asking. It was difficult for her to decipher if she was really okay or not, but she smiles at him anyway. “I also thank Grace for dragging our other sister, Katelina, all the way here. You and I have walked different paths, but you’ll always be my older sister and I will always care for you, no matter what.” 

Nodding her head - in thanks, in approval - she leans into Roman’s side where she’s been safely tucked since they got back into the party; she always feels worn out after dealing with Nan O’Brien, and though this last argument wasn’t anywhere near the ones they’ve had in the past, she’s grateful to have someone who can hold her weight when she needs to shift it somewhere else for a bit. Roman’s arm is wrapped around her back, sturdy. 

“I truly couldn’t have done it without my family, and this man right here,” he slips his hand into Asher’s, picking it up to place a kiss on the back of it, “has been my rock since we met, really. He’s been a stable place I can run to and I thank my lucky stars that I spilled my coffee on  _ your _ expensive canvases and not some other person’s.” 

Asher laughs, but the laughing is cut off by a gasp when Kristian lets go of his hand only to reach into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small box. 

“From the moment I met you, I knew you were the love of my life. I had never felt that way before, and I never want to stop feeling it, so, my dear love Asher…” He gets down on one knee, and from her spot, Kat can see tears slip from both of their faces. She can feel the sting of tears in her own, and curls her fingers into Roman’s hand on her hip, shaking it a little in excitement. “In front of my family and our peers, would you do me the honor of becoming my husband?” 

Asher nods his head, grabbing for Kris’ face and slamming into him, kissing and hugging and crying, and everyone at the party starts clapping. She can hear Grace whooping in glee nearby and Roman whistles loudly above her, and she looks up at him for a split second before he looks down at her at the same time. The noise dissipates, her ears blocked with the sound of her heartbeat and the feeling of something close to hope making it impossible to breathe; had he always been so handsome? Did she never notice, or was it something she ignored? Another thing she might not have noticed before, but his tie was matching the exact color of her dress, and beside it, in a pocket at the front of his jacket …  _ no… _

“Kat…” 

“Roman…?”

The applause had stopped and the music had started back up again, people too focused on congratulating Kristian to pay any mind to the two of them, and she looks around for a place to talk before she pulls him out into the foyer and up the wide staircase.  _ Still, Still Still _ plays in the background but becomes muted when she pulls him into a random room on the second floor and closes the door behind them.. 

“ _ You _ . This entire time, it was you, and you didn’t tell me. How could you not tell me?” 

Roman raises an eyebrow at her. “Kat, what are you talking about?” 

“The fucking  _ carnation _ . A red carnation,  _ you _ sent it.” 

He had the decency to look shocked at her accusation, and she starts to second-guess herself before his face softens to a small smile. “I sent more than that. Think there was some little white flowers, a purple one-” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Kat, I think you’re pretty swell and I’m used to hanging around crazies but let  _ me _ be a little crazy and buy you this bouquet of flowers’. I had only known you for a few weeks at the time.”

“But it’s been  _ months _ now! You kept it from me for--”

He places a hand on the side of her neck, thumb brushing at the growing flush on her cheeks. When did that get there? “Kat, I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, or lie, or anything like that. It was just - it reminded me of you. Red, beautiful - I was drawn right to it, just like that first night in the bar. Kristian wants to talk about lucky, and I bet he is, but I feel lucky too. Ambrose knows me better than I would care to admit sometimes, and he was ready to practically give me away to you on the spot.” He seems embarrassed at that, thumb still rubbing her cheek, and she  _ definitely _ feels herself blushing now. “Forget luck - I’m damn  _ blessed _ to know you the way that I do.” 

A soft gasp, eyes wide and hot and everything is  _ hot _ and she bites down on her lip and closes her eyes, before she feels a forehead warm against her own, and her eyes snap open again. Roman’s so close, nose brushing against hers, his eyes closed and his breath warm against her mouth and everything is so  _ much _ . 

“R-Roman…” her voice isn’t more than a whisper, and she has to gulp, because suddenly her throat is dry as a desert. His eyes open, looking at her, opening her up and touching her soul before he presses his lips to hers in the gentlest kiss she’d ever had, like he’s testing the waters, the softest peck and it’s done. Gulping and feeling her head nod against his own, she surges up into a proper kiss, arms shooting around his neck, a tear rolling down her face because no one’s  _ ever _ been blessed to know her before. 

His arm winds around her waist, pulling her into his strong frame, and it awakens a  _ hunger _ in her. She’s satisfied with kissing, with closeness, but she’s still hungering for something more, and from the feel of him as he holds her, he’s feeling the same way she is. Her fingers grab his shirt, balling it in her fists on his chest, and she shakes him a little when her lips leave his in a  _ Pop! _ and she’s regained some of her composure now, enough that she can grin a little salaciously at him. “If you want me to show  _ you _ how  _ I _ feel when I’m around you, we should probably--” 

“What, you don’t want to make out in front of ‘all your family and peers’?” 

Kat rolls her eyes. “Fucking weirdo.” 

He manages to smirk in return.

* * *

When they get within the walls of Roman’s room, she’s backed against the door and kissed stupid, and she returns everything he gives her, with interest. Her arms hold him close to her, his hands bracing himself on the door so he doesn’t completely cage her in, giving her an out if she needed to take it. The last thing on her mind is escape, however, as she urges him backward until his knees buckle once they brace the edge of the mattress. He falls onto it, breaking their liplock, and she finally feels like she has the high ground. Her hands run over his head, following a strand until she finds the tight bun holding his hair back and carefully starts to undo it, rubbing at the part of his head where his hair was tightly held in place. 

His hands rub up and down her sides, making her twitch in his hold when he grazes over a sensitive spot. Of course, he tries to find it again, but she catches his fingers before he can and gives him a knowing, mock-scornful look. “Nuh uh, not this time. Puppy’s getting a little too curious.” 

“ _ Puppy _ ? That supposed to be cute?” he unbuttons his suit jacket and undoes the first two buttons of his shirt before he pulls her down onto his lap; the dress she has on allows her plenty of space for movement, stretches enough but retains its shape again, and she gazes at him as she straddles him. He buries his head in her neck, mouthing at her nape, and his facial hair tickles her skin and makes her have to fight hard not to fidget away from him. 

“No, it’s supposed to be-  _ ah _ , an insult?” 

“Uh huh.” He licks her skin, kisses, mouths from her neck to her throat. “Keep talkin’. I want to pull more of that outta you.” 

“ _ Mm... _ ore what?” 

Roman pulls his face out of her neck and gives her a  _ wicked _ look. “The sounds you don’t want me to be hearing, so you cover them with words.” 

Kat pouts.  _ Actually _ pouts. And he giggles at her, like the fiend that he is.

His hands wander over her, from her waist and to her back, fingers deftly running over the zipper of her dress. That’s when her heart does a little leap, like she was thrust back into her body, and she sighs hard before diving in for a hard kiss, eyes squeezed shut. Against his lips, she whimpers something, and he helps her lean back as he asks her what she said. 

“I think…” she crosses her arms, uncrosses them, recrosses before throwing her hands up in frustration. “From the time I got those flowers, the carnation, and finding out about everything, I…” her voice breaks and she closes her eyes, and he joins her on his feet. “I think, all this time… I’ve loved you.” 

Roman kisses her, slow, wraps his arms around her and holds onto her tight. “Let me show you  _ just _ what I’ve felt for you, baby girl.” 

_ That… _ sends a shiver up her spine and she goes to take a step before her knee buckles. Luckily, he’s got his arm around her still, and he lets her do what she wants to do when they get back to the bed. She’s surprised he’s willing to follow her lead, considering the few others she’d been with that weren’t just a release were more content to lead than to follow. She reaches behind her and starts to unzip the back of the dress, but only gets about halfway before she slips off the tiny sleeves. 

Before she can think to do or say anything, he swoops in to kiss her lips again, but this time his tongue joins his lips. Her mouth opens, granting him permission, and he kisses her stupid again for a few more minutes, rubbing his hands up and down her body, over the parts he’d grown to know already and what she’d just allowed him access to. She mewls into his mouth, back bowing as his hand grips her ass, and she rubs her body up against his as close as she can before her hands start to undress him too. 

It’s not terribly difficult to get the rest of his buttons off, though the further down her hands go, the slopper she gets. Desperation had never been a good look on her, but she’s impatient. When her lips are spit-slick and kiss-bruised, he helps get his shirt off, and she’s entirely too eager to explore the new space bared to her; she had seen him in tee shirts, tank tops, and all covered up, but she’d not seen his body bared before, and she’s got to admit … beautiful wasn’t usually a word men liked to hear, but he was a sight to fucking behold. He helps her with his belt and even wiggles it at her before she grabs it from his hand, raises an eyebrow, and tosses it away. 

“Nuh uh. Unless you want to know how it feels to be operated on with the heel of my boot.” 

“No, ma’am.” He chuckles but acts adequately threatened, and she laughs breathily as they tag-team his dress pants together, leaving them both in the same states of undress. 

Roman sits on the bed, moving up and stacking a bunch of pillows up behind him to prop him up. She follows, interrupting his stacking with kisses, some more innocent than others, but eventually she deems the pile worthy enough and just grabs at his face, licking into his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip and straddling his hips again. She can now feel the evidence of his arousal on her most precious center and she lets out a breathy sigh as she starts to grind against him. A guttural moan escapes his lips like she pulled it from his very soul and she holds herself up with her hands on his chest, giving him a dirty grin when she pulls her face from his and eyes him curiously. 

“Kat, baby, I need you to tell me what you want…” his voice is heavy, still trying to maintain some semblance of his own control as she grinds against him, and she laughs under her breath, grabbing onto his short beard and shaking his head side to side, playful. 

“I want you to give me a good Christmas memory.” 

Looking up at her, he kisses her lips, sweet, before surging up with enough momentum that he flips her onto the pillows and hovers over her like a safety net. “I’ve got you.” 

It’s a blur of sounds and smells and  _ everything _ as he leans down to kiss over the swell of her breasts, her chest heaving with the effort it took to keep her breathing quiet, and he moves one of the cups of her bra down to suck a nipple into his mouth. It drives her crazy, lips and teeth and tongue over her, but by the time he finishes with one and moves onto the other, she can feel her stomach starting to tighten already. He moves down, over her belly and past her navel, before he sits up and eyes her carefully. “Can I continue?” 

“ _ Yes _ ,” she whispers. 

He runs his fingers over her cloth-clad folds, and she pretends her breath doesn’t hitch and stutter. Her mind’s a little fogged up now, lost in lust, her belly swirling with hot pleasure as he teases her. Roman moves her underwear out of the way and rubs up and down her center again and giggles to himself how wet she is already. She blushes, embarrassed, but bends one leg at the knee to open herself up more. He sets to work, slowly pushing a finger into her, and a few pumps and strokes later she’s ready for a second finger. 

His name rushes from her lips and she arches her back off the bed, but try as she might to bring herself more pleasure - canting her hips, trying to ride his fingers - he simply stops, and she lets out a growl low in her throat. “ _ Roman _ . Please.” 

“Not yet. Hold on a little longer for me, baby doll.” 

She keens, unable to make words for what she was feeling right now. Her stomach keeps coiling, growing tight as she feels herself on the edge of pleasure, but before she can breach that line … he pulls his fingers out of her and she lets out a wail, mourning the feeling of him, before she peeks one eye open to look at him and she feels her breath escape her justly as he starts pulling the waistband of his boxers down. 

Quiet looms over them. Roman frees himself from his boxers and crawls back up to drape himself over her, leaning down to kiss her lips slow, languid, the air around them thick and warm and when he pulls back from her, her greedy mouth chases after him. 

“ _ Please _ .” 

She watches as he lines himself up, holds himself in his hand as he carefully presses into her, pushing to the hilt, and he gets himself poised over her, hands holding her face as his forehead finds hers and his nose bumps into hers and he starts moving. 

At first, he sets a slow pace, deep, hitting her in just the right spot that makes her back bow and her mouth drop open, but it doesn’t stay slow for long as he gets used to the way she feels, the way he seems to fit perfectly inside her like they were two perfect puzzle pieces. The bed squeaks as his pace quickens, one hand grasping one of the pillows as his other pets her hair out of her face. Moans catch in her throat and she has a hard time keeping them stemmed back when he makes sure to hit  _ that _ spot on every push in and she drags her fingers up his back and digs her nails in, his movements making her drag her hand down and it makes him groan, eggs him on. 

Before long, he’s pistoning into her at a steady rhythm, making her bury her face in the crook of his neck and whimper her noises into his skin. Pleasure coils in her stomach, hot, tinging the edges of her vision with its intensity until she feels her body starting to tremble involuntarily. 

“R-Roman… I’m…” 

“Aaaaaagh,” is his intelligent reply, and he pumps himself into her one final time before he pulls out, rubbing his hardness against her warm, twitching center until she’s near sobbing with relief as her orgasm hits her, making her entire body grow hot. He spills his release onto her stomach, uttering her name in a grumbled version of it she’d never heard before, and he lands to the side of her, arm stretched over her heaving chest as they both make a feeble attempt at forcing their hearts to rest. 

They both were an absolute mess, hair everywhere, her body sweat-sticky and her stomach  _ cum _ -sticky and her neck and chest covered in splotches from his attentions, but … she feels damn  _ good _ . She was far from a virgin, but she hadn’t felt like  _ this _ , sated, even when her body’s temperature is starting to rapidly fall as her heartbeat calms. The longer they lay there, not saying anything, the heavier Roman’s arm feels on her chest, less like he’s exhausted and more like he’s shielding her, and she looks over at him only to find him gazing right back at her, face flushed and damp with sweat. 

The sheets were all messed up, but there’s enough not terribly soiled that’s sticking out between them and she breathes out, turning slightly to face him better and rubbing the corner of the sheet over his face - forehead, down the bridge of his nose, over his cheek … and when she gets to his mouth and chin, she leans in to initiate an exhausted kiss, short but sweet, a period. 

“How… how was that? For a … Christmas memory?” Roman pants, voice wrecked. Kat smiles, a real smile, far from the snarky smirks or amused grins, and further from the little things she used to give him before. 

“The best I’ve ever had.” 

She starts to try and get settled again, but Roman pushes himself up off the bed. “Hey, you know there’s a second bed.”

Kat looks down at the bed they were on - it’s a little worse for wear, dirty, now that she really takes it in - and she jumps up immediately and scurries around to take her spot furthest from the door. On her way by, she picks up his dress shirt and has it on her and almost buttoned all the way up by the time she’s down for good. “Yeah, fuck that bed.” 

“I mean…” he elongates the ‘e’, and she lets out an embarrassed squawk before leaning over and picking up one of the pamphlets in the bedside table, one that showed tourist spots or something, and throws it in his direction. She misses, on purpose, and he lets out a laugh that wraps her up and pulls her further toward sleep than she’d been before it. 

Roman settles in beside her, turned on his side, as she’s on her back and staring at the ceiling. Before her eyes close for the night, she slowly turns her head to look at him in a similar state, and chews on her lip in thought. He says her name softly, barely above a whisper, and a smirk plays on her lips for a brief moment. 

“Guess I know why they call you ‘big dog’ now.”

“Yezzir.”

Laughing, she scoots a little closer, and he pulls the blanket up from underneath them - with her help, the last of her willpower for tonight - to place it on top. Just before she dips into dreamland, he tries to get her attention with a sharp  _ Psst! _ and she cracks one eye open, mock-scolding as she summons a tiny glare. But his look is so genuinely happy, calm, that the glare melts away almost instantly. 

“Merry Christmas, baby girl.” 

“Mhm… you too, Roman…”

...and it might not be visions of sugarplums or anything, but Katelina can say with finality that Roman had given her her  _ best _ Christmas memory.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on tumblr at 'cookiethewriter'!! 
> 
> if you have a discord, message me on tumblr (have to have an account - not an ask, unless you're signed in and i can answer you privately!) so i can send you the link to my server! :D


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